


Sticky and thick, then it's perfect!

by Belsmomaus



Series: I can't lose you! [1]
Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016), Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Bodhi is good in a crisis, Cassian can be an idiot, Changing POV, Established Relationship, First Aid, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Post-Battle of Scarif, injured Cassian
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-23
Updated: 2017-04-27
Packaged: 2018-10-23 01:51:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,682
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10709649
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Belsmomaus/pseuds/Belsmomaus
Summary: Verifying the rumor that the Empire has given up their newly installed listening post in the forests of Zastryll.That has been their mission.Well, now they not only know that yes, the rumor is true, but also why the Empire has fled the planet.“Faster, Bodhi! They’re catching up!”___The one where Cassian saves Bodhi’s life. Or Bodhi saves Cassian’s. Or both? It’s really hard to tell with these two, constantly getting into trouble and all...





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Just a good old hurt/comfort story with these two.

 

Verifying the rumor that the Empire has given up their newly installed listening post in the forests of Zastryll.

That has been their mission.

Well, now they not only know that yes, the rumor is true, but also _why_ the Empire has fled the planet.

“Faster, Bodhi! They’re catching up!”

Right on cue another arrow hisses past his face – way too close for his liking – and embeds itself into the thick and dark soil only inches away from Bodhi’s foot.

Bodhi is right in front of him, running as fast as the uneven ground allows. The jacket that he’d wrapped around his hips earlier is gone, lost somewhere in the forest behind them. Cassian wishes Bodhi would still wear it; his light gray shirt is practically screaming “target”.

Cassian is panting, his muscles burning and yet he forces himself to sprint a bit faster. Adrenaline is flooding his body, making him more aware of everything around, filling him with this strange exhilaration. This whole situation is so totally surreal. And yet, somehow, he’s almost enjoying this. Almost. Well, he probably would if their shuttle hadn’t been another 50 yards of uneven, slippery and mossy ground away, full of death traps like holes and twigs. Or if Bodhi hadn’t been with him, for he’d never forgive himself if Bodhi got hurt because he’d failed to assess the danger correctly.

They’d never gotten the chance to talk to the natives of this planet, hadn’t even _seen_ one of them properly, but their stance in this is quite clear. No foreigners on their planet, no matter where they come from and what they want.

And they’re very, _very_ insistent.

He turns to try and make out their positions. He needs to know what he’s dealing with. How many there are, how close they’d managed to get already. Branches are moving and the foliage of bushes swaying. He sees shadows moving, out of the corner of his eyes and another arrow hurtling towards them. He doesn’t hesitate: he points his blaster in the direction the arrow had come from and shoots. The answering scream, followed by a dull thud, both pleases and sickens him. He doesn’t want to kill them, they only protect their home. But he won’t give up without a fight either. And he’ll certainly do anything to protect Bodhi.

His eyes quickly scan the surrounding undergrowth, the shadows and the movements, but it’s impossible to make out anything specific. He can’t tell where exactly they are or how many of them are following them. The only thing he knows for sure is this: primitive technology or not, they are a force to be reckoned with.

He turns back, glad that running blindly hasn’t sent him sprawling across the forest floor, and runs faster to catch up to Bodhi again.

It isn’t far. He can see the edge of the forest already, can spot the metallic gleam of their shuttle between the tree trunks.

It’s eerily quiet apart from the thudding of their boots and their panting breaths. Quiet enough that he hears the thrumming of a bowstring as it snaps back right after releasing an arrow. His head whirls back again, his eyes spotting the arrow immediately. It’s coming right for them this time. He doesn’t think, merely acts. And throws himself against Bodhi to push him to the ground.

Bodhi cries out in surprise. Together they crash into the ground and Bodhi grunts into the forest floor. But every sound dies on his lips as the arrow embeds itself into the ground only two feet in front of his face, the shaft still buzzing with vibration.

That’s when the second arrow hits.

Cassian hasn’t seen that one coming. But he _fe_ _els_ it as it pierces his right thigh. He can’t help the pained outcry. Most of it is muffled by how close his face is pressed into Bodhi’s back, though. Barely a second later his teeth click together, biting back every further sound. Their followers don’t need to know that they’ve hit their prey. And neither does Bodhi. He would only worry and insist on helping him and that would slow them down and he _need_ _s_ to get Bodhi to safety!

So he pushes himself up again with a groan he can’t keep in. “ _Get up! UP! Go, go, go!_ ” he urges Bodhi to move.

Of course Bodhi is wasting time they don’t have with hesitating while getting up. With hesitating on _his_ account, of course. “You okay?”

“Yeah!” he shoots back. “Now _run_! The shuttle isn’t far. _Run_! I’m right behind you!”

And Bodhi does, this time.

Cassian gives a cursory glance down at his leg. Part of the arrow shaft peeks out at the front of his thigh, together with a big, nasty looking tip that doesn’t look like metal. It’s big and sharp and covered in his blood. Maybe it’s made from bone? Not that it matters now.

Cursing under his breath he pushes the pain away, countless years of experience with that sort of thing coming in handy yet again. And he starts running as well.

He doesn’t get far.

The shaft and fletching that protrude from the back of his thigh get caught up in bushes and even if they don’t they keep swinging up and down with his movements and send blinding hot spikes of pain through his muscle. Constant pain he can ignore, but this?

He can’t keep this up.

Bodhi is still running ahead as Cassian stumbles behind the cover of a tree, panting even heavier than before. Sweat is trickling down his brow and the back of his neck, soaking his shirt beneath his jacket. He wipes the worst of it off his face with the back of his hand, then focuses on the archaic projectile lodged in his thigh. Blood is already running down his leg and seeping into his dark pants. He can’t see it, but he can feel it.

Without hesitation, because time is of the essence, he pushes his blaster underneath his arm, unwilling to let it go completely. Then he twists as best he can and grabs the back of the arrow and bends the shaft between his hands, harder and harder, clenching his teeth against the searing pain in his leg, until it finally snaps. Breathing hard, he closes his shaking hand around the shaft right beneath the arrowhead and pulls it out.

Warm blood wells up and trails down his skin, making the fabric of his pants stick to his thigh. It can’t be helped. He knows he needs bandaging. Needs it badly. But he needs to reach the shuttle even more if he wants to have a chance at all.

And he needs to make sure that Bodhi gets there in one piece.

His leg still shaking he grabs his blaster again and leans out behind the tree. They are much closer now, he can actually make out vague shapes beneath the branches and bushes. He aims and shoots, aims and shoots, aims and shoots.

They stop their advance. Even stop shooting.

This is his chance. Maybe his only one. If he doesn’t act now he will never leave this place.

He pushes himself off of the tree and runs. Or better: stumbles. The pain he can life with, can power through it – maybe – but with every step his leg feels more unstable, more wobbly, threatening to give in underneath him.

His throat hurts, dry and burning with his hectically gulped down breaths.

But there’s Bodhi, at least 25 yards in front of him, leaving the forest. He just needs to get into the shuttle and he’d be as close to safety as possible right now. And that’s worth it. That is certainly worth it!

Bodhi turns back – _of course_ he does. He hesitates, shouts Cassian’s name and steps back beneath the trees.

Cassian knows that he’ll run back right into danger to help him if he doesn’t act fast. So he waves Bodhi off with an impatient gesture. “ _GO!_ ”

The relief when Bodhi finally turns and leaves for the safety of the shuttle nearly sends him to his knees. The root of a nearby tree, hidden underneath a layer of moss, does for real, though. This time, his cry is for everyone to hear. The pain that rips through his thigh too much to hold in, too sudden to keep a lid on or fight back. It knocks the breath out of him, or maybe that’s been the fall. Either way, for a second, the world turns dark and he can’t breathe.

A soft thud rips him back into reality. And as he opens his eyes he finds an arrow buried deep into the soft ground right in front of his nose.

He would’ve never thought that his body would be capable of shooting even _more_ adrenaline into his system, but it certainly does now. Clumsier than he would’ve liked he fumbles for his blaster and rolls onto his back. He shoots the second he sees something move. Scrabbling backwards he fires his blaster again and again, feeling no sympathy for the ones he kills. Not this time.

His hand connects with a tree trunk and he uses it to push himself back onto his feet. The world is spinning for a moment and he needs a second to simply hold onto the tree, catch his breath and blink the dizziness away. Then he goes on. His focus solely on the edge of the forest this time.

Arrows are hissing past him. He thinks one might have graced his arm, but he’s not sure. His whole body hurts by now. His lungs are burning, his breaths harsh and way too fast and still not enough. Not enough. His vision is swimming. Maybe just from the sweat that’s trickling into his eyes. Maybe. But that doesn’t explain the dark spots, right?

His right leg is stiff and clumsy and doesn’t feel like a part of him. He doesn’t want it to be a part of him, if only for the infernal pain to stop. The ground lurches suddenly, or he trips. Or his leg has finally buckled. He falls but crashes against another trunk. His hands cling to the tree on instinct. Everything to keep himself upright, for he knows, if he goes down now, it’s unlikely he’ll get up again. Panting heavily into the rough bark against his face he blinks frantically to banish the dark spots once more. To clear his blurry vision by willpower alone.

It works.

Well, it works _somewhat_.

There’s a noise. Humming and swooshing.

Before he even knows what’s going on massive energy blasts shoot past him into the forest. One salve, then another. Then it stops. Still startled by the suddenness he stares ahead. Stares at the shuttle in the air, its laser cannons still glowing softly as it turns sideways again to hover right at the edge of the forest. Maybe twenty yards away.

Waiting for him.

He can even hear shouting, if only dimly. It’s Bodhi. Has to be Bodhi.

One last time he pushes himself forward, away from the only support he has and hobbles onwards, hoping that Bodhi’s little demonstration of power has scared the natives off for good. Or at least long enough to make their escape.

His vision tunnels in on the open hatch, visible between two trees right at the edge of the forest. He stumbles, grabs for any tree that crosses his path to cling on to. “You can do this” and “get to Bodhi” are repeating itself over and over in his mind, the only things left to focus on.

He has no idea how he does it, but suddenly his fingers close around metal and next thing he knows he’s lying on the durasteel floor of the shuttle, panting hard. It’s pleasantly cool against the heated skin of his face. He hears the hatch closing behind him and his eyes slide shut as his body trembles from exertion and pain.

There’s a noise that keeps him from drifting off. A constant noise. A voice.

Bodhi. It is Bodhi. Talking to him.

Cassian forces his eyes open. Forces himself to concentrate on Bodhi, but it’s so very hard.

“Get us out of here!” It sounds weak and out of breath. And it’s probably unnecessary, Bodhi will do just that anyway.

With the last remnants of strength and self-control, he clenches his teeth and pushes himself up into a sitting position, leaning against the wall. The interior of the shuttle dims around him, and sways, more than it should.

His right hand fumbles for his leg – where’s his blaster? Shouldn’t there be a blaster in his right hand? Pain spikes as his hand touches the wound. His pants are sticky and wet. And he knows he should do something about it, but his muscles simply won’t move anymore. So instead he closes his eyes.

Bodhi is safe. That’s what counts.

 

TBC


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Now it's up to Bodhi...

 

“Get us out of here!”

“Already on it!” Bodhi’s hands fly over the controls, taking the shuttle up into the air, heading right for the atmosphere and open space. “The sooner the better. That’s a place I never need to visit again!”

He’s babbling and he knows it, but his muscles are still tingling from the sprint through the forest and the bouts of adrenaline that still flood his bloodstream. He’s giddy and shaken from the sudden – and absolutely unexpected – turn of their mission. So he compensates by talking. He doesn’t like it very much, knows it’s annoying, but he can’t help it. And he’s with Cassian after all. He doesn’t feel the need to hide anything, good or bad, when it comes to Cassian. With him he can always be just himself, giddy or nervous, excited or afraid, it doesn’t matter. Cassian understands. Just another reason why he feels so comfortable around him.

Just another reason why he loves him.

“Arrows! _Arrows_! I’ve never been shot at with arrows! Feels like being in one of those really old holo-movies. Phew,” he blows air out with inflated cheeks, “what do you think? Can we skip the endurance training tomorrow? After all the running and dodging we just did?”

There is no answer. Just heavy breathing.

“Cassian?”

Again no answer.

Bodhi sits up straighter. After a quick check of his instruments he leans back as far as he can and peaks into the main compartment of the shuttle. He only sees Cassian’s legs and a bit of his left arm, the rest is hidden behind a wall.

His stomach clenches.

Something is wrong. He knows it.

“Cassian!?” This time he’s louder, more insistent, as worry gnaws at his insides.

No answer.

Kriff!

He’d been okay before. Bodhi had seen him running in the forest, stumbling on the uneven ground, but running. And later he’d been pressed against a tree, seeking cover from the arrows. Sure, he’d been more out of breath than usual as he’d entered the shuttle, but still… he’d seemed fine.

Which means nothing when it comes to Cassian. He’d learned that the hard way.

_Kriff!!!_

He works the controls with more urgency now. There’s no need to make any calculations regarding the jump to hyperspace, he’d already done that on their flight here, preparing for the possibility of a quickly needed getaway, and right now he’s damn glad he did. Just a little bit more, a little bit… he activates the hyperdrive and the ship lurches forward onto the plotted course. Half an hour, then they’ll be back, their current position not too far away from their main base.

The instant the shuttle jumps to lightspeed – the autopilot taking over now – Bodhi jumps out of his seat.

Cassian is sitting on the ground of the main compartment, in the corner between the hatch and the back of the co-pilot’s chair. He’s leaning against the wall, his chest heaving with gasping breaths and his hair plastered to his head and brow with sweat. But it’s the sickly pallor of his face, shining with perspiration, that makes his stomach drop. That and his closed eyes.

Something is wrong. Horribly, horribly wrong.

“Cassian?” He’s next to his lover in an instant, kneeling on the hard floor, and places his hand on the other’s shoulder, giving a gentle shake. “Cassian?!”

“Huh?” It’s barely above a whisper, but it’s there. And he opens his eyes, in a horribly sluggish movement only to reveal unfocused eyes, disoriented at first, that can’t hide neither pain nor exhaustion.

Bodhi’s pulse speeds up at once, as if his heartbeat is trying to compensate for Cassian’s lethargy. Or to fight against the sudden pressure of dread that closes around his chest like a vice.

“What happened? What’s wrong?” The questions shoot out of him with quivering urgency.

Cassian licks his lips as if to speak but then he only gives a vague nod downwards and Bodhi follows his gaze to his leg. The dark material of his pants is glistening-- then he spots it and his stomach drops even further. Cassian’s hand is resting against his thigh and there’s red beneath his palm. Red welling up between his fingers.

And everything clicks together like pieces of a puzzle.

“ _Kriff_! You got shot!” Cassian says nothing. “And you pulled the arrow out! You _pulled the arrow out_! What are you? A laserbrain?”

He doesn’t waste a second. Neither on his shock and disbelief nor the fear in his gut. Instead he gets up and rummages through the overhead compartment until his fingers finally close around the first aid kit. He needs to get the bleeding under control, otherwise Cassian wouldn’t-

No, that’s not an option!

“Impeded me. Couldn’t run.”

Bodhi rolls his eyes. “I could’ve helped you!” He kneels down again. “Lie down!” He helps Cassian move forward until there’s enough space to lie down on his back. Each pained groan piercing right through him, only to transform into anger. Anger is easier to manage than the rest of the turmoil that threatens to drag him under. “Why didn’t you tell me?” There’s no denying the reproach in his voice. Nor the feeling of being betrayed.

Cassian swallows around a gasp and his eyes fall close. “Was no time,” he presses out, voice even more tired than moments ago.

_Keep him talking! You need to keep him talking!_

“You’re such a moof-milker sometimes! A stupid, self-sacrificing-- hey! No time for sleeping! I need you here!” He’s fumbling the first aid kit open and grabs a pair of scissors. “I’ve got no idea of first aid! You need to walk me through, okay? Cassian? What do I do?”

It’s a lie. A blatant lie. He’s got first aid training, just like every other officer in the Empire as well. But he needs to keep Cassian talking, needs to keep him conscious. And it’s working. Brown eyes open again and focus on him after a while. Bodhi uses the time to grab Cassian’s pants leg and starts to cut it open from the ankle upwards right to his hip.

“You need to uncover the wound and- and check the bleeding.”

There is blood everywhere and it’s hard to see anything, but there are two wounds, one at the back and the other at the front of his thigh. They’re bleeding as far as he can tell in between all the red everywhere, but not as heavily as he would’ve thought.

“And then?”

He grabs a handful of gauze, steeling himself for what he needs to do.

“Gauze. Pressure. To stem the blood flow.”

The second he says that Bodhi presses the gauze against the wounds. The following scream chills him right down to his core. Nothing in the universe can prepare you for hearing a sound like that forced out of the person you love. It quickly fades to a pathetic whimpering and then harsh panting again.

“I’m sorry, Cassian. I’m so sorry!”

They stay like that for a while and Bodhi waits until Cassian has composed himself again, at least somewhat. And until he opens his eyes again – which needs a little coaxing and nudging.

“Now what? What do I do next, Cassian?”

He carefully checks beneath the blood soaked gauze. It’s still bleeding, but he thinks it has slowed a bit more. Enough to apply a bacta patch. He immediately starts rummaging through the first aid kit. Luckily for the both of them it’s well stocked. He takes two patches out as well as some bandages.

“Is-” More panting. “Is it still bleeding?”

“Only a little bit.” He can practically see the wheels turning inside Cassian’s head as he’s trying to think, to concentrate. It’s painful to watch.

Bodhi opens one of the patches and gently applies it to the wound on the front.

Cassian hisses, grimacing, but otherwise doesn’t move. “Then bacta-- bacta patches.”

Bodhi lifts his leg a little bit by pulling his knee up to apply the second patch to the wound at the back and then wraps it all tightly with the bandages.

Cassian is trembling beneath him, clenching his teeth every now and then, before he talks again, “Bandages. Need to- fixate--”

Bodhi hates the way his words start blurring together. It scares him. But not as much as the fact that Cassian doesn’t seem to notice that Bodhi is always a step ahead of his instructions.

After a quick look around he gets up and pulls a small crate over that’s usually fastened to the shuttle wall. As carefully as possible he lifts Cassian’s injured leg and places his calf onto the crate. The bandage is holding, there’s no blood leaking out anywhere.

Nonetheless on edge he plops down next to Cassian and wipes his hands on his pants. To his own surprise his hand isn’t trembling as he lifts it to his lover’s head, gently carding through his sweaty hair. For a moment, the harsh sounds of Cassian’s labored breathing mixed with his quiet groans are the only sound in the shuttle. Tired eyes settle on him and a warm smile ghosts over Cassian’s lips, the pain edged too deeply into the lines of his face to soften from it. Then those eyes slowly close. And stay closed.

“Hey! No, no, no! Stay with me!”

The fear settles like ice in his gut. Sudden and inescapable. He pats Cassian’s cheek before he really knows that he’s doing it.

“Hey, come on!”

He nearly sobs when Cassian struggles to open his eyes again and grunts, turning his face away from the patting hand with a frown.

“Bodhi-” Bodhi listens, his thumbs caressing his lover’s face without him realizing. “Get us home.”

_Already on it!_

“I will- if you promise to stay awake for me! That’s not so hard, isn’t it? Come on, talk to me! Just- tell me something.”

A strangled sound reaches his ears. It takes him a moment to identify it as a chuckle.

“I’m not- much of a talker. -You know that.”

Bodhi grabs for Cassian’s hand, entwines their fingers and squeezes gently. He forces a smile on his face. It feels stiff and wrong and he wants to cry, but this is not the time to give in to his worry or that horrible helplessness that threatens to overwhelm him. This is the time to stay strong, for Cassian.

“I don’t care. Anything at all, any- hey, remember the thing you cooked for us when we were trapped in that stinky spaceport for a week?”

“The _Andor especial_?”

“Yeah, that. You said it’s from your home? Something your mother made when you were a kid? How do you make it?”

That earns him another weak chuckle that sounds more like a choked groan. “Seriously? A recipe?”

Bodhi only raises an eyebrow.

“Ok.”

It works.

Although Bodhi barely gets anything Cassian is saying. Each piece of information stays for maybe a short moment, just long enough for him to formulate a simple question to keep the other going, but if you’d ask him later on what the dish is made of or how it’s made he wouldn’t have been able to answer. He tries to listen, but the increasingly frequent pauses catch his attention far more than the actual words. He tries to focus on the feel of Cassian’s hand in his, on the soft wetness of his hair and the way his lips twitch into a tiny, exhausted smile every once in a while, but gets distracted by how cold his hands are, by the grayish pallor of his face and by the way exhaustion and pain slur his words more and more.

This is wrong. So terribly, terribly wrong.

Cassian is a soldier, a spy. A _fighter_. He’s a master of deception if he wants to be. Quick-thinking and with always at least one contingency plan at his hands.

He’s not supposed to lie motionless on the ground, stumbling over words like a drunk, fighting to stay conscious a moment longer, easy to read for anybody who’d see him like this.

Bodhi wants to wrap himself around him and hold him close, kiss it better. If only it were that simple. So he checks the bandages again instead.

When he looks up again Cassian’s eyes are closed and Bodhi forgets how to breathe.

But Cassian is still talking, explaining how the right temperature is important.

And Bodhi’s lungs fill with air again. It’s okay. Cassian is okay.

A beeping, accompanied by a blinking light at the console demands his attention – at the same time all too sudden and long overdue. It’s the notification that they’ll drop out of hyperspace soon.

He squeezes Cassian’s cold fingers again and strokes his hand over his clammy forehead in a gentle caress. “I need to get back to the controls. Just keep talking, I’ll hear you.”

“M-hm- where--?”

For a second Bodhi has no idea where Cassian has left off with the recipe. He wrecks his brain, but nothing. “The temperature?” It’s the best he can do.

It seems to be enough, for Cassian is talking again, slowly, with many, many pauses and barely above a whisper, but he’s talking.

Bodhi gets up and hurries over to the pilot’s seat to get the ship ready for sublight again. He checks the sensors, enters the accurate frequency into the comm.-system and changes a few configurations of the engines to hopefully tickle a little bit more speed out of them. But he always listens for that breathy voice.

They drop out of hyperspace.

“Okay, but how do I know it’s done?” he asks while upping the speed.

He grins. It’s working. His modifications are working. They accelerate faster than their supposed maximum speed. Well, the overheating alarm is blinking, but he’s planning on being on the surface long before it becomes a problem.

“Sticky- and thick- then it’s- perfect.”

Bodhi chuckles as he remembers the really thick stew and Kay’s dry comment of “it doesn’t seem as if it wants to be eaten” as Cassian had struggled to get it out of the saucepan and into their bowls. It’s easier to ignore his fear with the surety of a control stick underneath his fingers. Or the sight of Yavin IV’s endless green forests in the distance.

“We’re almost there. A few more minutes. I better let them know we’re coming.”

He activates the comm.

There’s no reaction from behind.

“Cassian? You hear me? We’re almost home.”

Nothing. Not even a quiet humming. Or a grunt.

He’s out of his seat in an instant.

Cassian’s head is tilted to the side, eyes closed, mouth slightly open. His whole body is completely slack.

From one second to the next all warmth seems gone from his body. Bodhi’s never felt this cold before. He drops to his knees, unsure if in urgency or because his legs gave out. It’s not important. Nothing’s important, apart from--

He shakes him. Shakes him harder. He’s not sure but he thinks he’s calling Cassian’s name, whispering or screaming, he doesn’t know. His lips are moving but he hears nothing but a constant droning, suffocating all sounds around him. His fingers check for a pulse, cold and trembling, and he just knows that if they’ll find nothing then he won’t be able to get up again.

There’s a thumping. Soft and fast. But there.

Everything afterwards is a blur.

He’s told later on that he’d contacted the base and ordered a medical team to the hangar for an emergency. He’s also told that the engine had been smoking by the time he landed.

He dimly remembers a team of medics, calm and hectic at the same time, who’d placed Cassian on a stretcher and hurried off with him. And suddenly finding himself enveloped by a tight embrace from Baze.

The only thing that’s clear in his mind the whole time, like a blinking, shrilling alarm is one thought. Just one.

_I can’t lose him!_

 

TBC

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I only realized after writing this that they'd probably wouldn't be based on Yavin IV anymore. I tried to change it to Hoth but the image just didn't work for me, so I hope you don't mind.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cassian wakes up...

 

Cassian wakes to a hand carding through his hair and a familiar voice, talking in a rhythmic, almost monotonous way. A prayer? He doesn’t understand a word. It’s not Basic, but he’s sure he’s heard that language before.

It’s nice.

The voice. The gentle caresses.

And it would’ve lulled him right back to sleep if not for the sudden clanging noise.

He startles. The hand and the voice stop. His eyes shoot open in shock and he jerks up, disoriented and startled, but the second he moves pain explodes in his leg and he falls back, eyes screwed shut and gasping. He’s dimly aware of a voice in the distance, apologizing again and again for dropping something while he can only breathe through the pain, fingers clenched into the fabric of a blanket.

Then the hand is back in his hair. Grounding. Soothing. Relaxing. The pain ebbs away again as he keeps still and the tension in his muscles eases with the soft ministrations of that hand.

He knows that hand. Trusts that hand.

He slowly opens his eyes. Bright light is coming in through the windows and it takes him a moment to blink the stinging pain of brightness away and focus on the face hovering above him.

That beautiful, beautiful face.

“Hey,” Bodhi greets him, his voice soft. And a bit shaky.

Cassian wants to smile in response, only to realize that he already is. He wonders since when. Probably since sometime along the pleasant caresses that come to a stop now. He doesn’t like that, although the hand is still buried in his hair and not moving away and that is nice as well.

He’s still here. Still alive. With Bodhi at his side.

“You did it!” His voice is dark and rough from disuse. It sounds terrible. And yet, the fact that he woke up and got to use it again at all means his trust was and is well placed. “You got us home.” He knew Bodhi would, he just hadn’t been sure if he’d get _him_ home in time.

Bodhi leans closer and his free hand wraps around his own, warm and safe. Home. “Told you! You didn’t keep your end of the bargain, though.”

Something isn’t right. He’s still a bit drowsy from sleep – and most likely a good dose of nice drugs as well – and yet he senses that something’s off about Bodhi. He’s tense, his words strangely controlled, his voice strained.

Cassian blinks again. He can see the relief in Bodhi’s expression, can read the joy in his eyes and yet--

He frowns. Licks his lips. “Are you okay?”

Bodhi snorts. It’s harsh and the resulting laugh short and dry. There’s a strange ring to it. “You ask _me_? You nearly bled to death and you ask if _I’m_ okay??” His voice is too high and his eyes are suddenly shining with unshed tears.

And all of a sudden Cassian understands.

He lifts their joined hands up onto his chest and he squeezes as he holds the other’s gaze, serious, but with a careful, reassuring smile.

“I’m sorry, Bodhi. I’m so sorry. But I’m here. I’m okay. I’m alive. It’s okay.”

“And a good thing, too! ‘Sticky and thick, then it’s perfect’ would’ve been terrible last words!”

At first he’s taken aback, too surprised by the sudden change in mood, but then, as the meaning gets through to him, he finally chuckles. “Yeah, that would’ve been awful.”

They look at each other and they grin, a bit shaky at first but a moment later they’re laughing. And all the while their hands are entwined, clinging to one another like letting go would mean the end of it all.

The giddiness… it’s the relief, looking for an outlet.

He knows it, has experienced it before.

And just like always it doesn’t last long. They sober up all too quickly again and Bodhi leans forward now, over the bed, closer and closer until his forehead touches Cassian’s, warm and solid and _there_. Cassian can feel him trembling now, just a soft, underlying quiver, and the hand that’s still in his hair, buries itself deeper, clawing at his head, fisting in his hair, not painful, but desperate.

“Don’t ever scare me like that again!”

It’s nothing but a whisper. And yet it sends chills down his spine. Something wet drops onto his cheek. Once, twice. Bodhi is crying.

It’s too much. His own eyes start burning treacherously, because he doesn’t dare tell him that he can’t promise that. He just can’t.

So instead he frees his hand from their death grip to clasp it around the back of Bodhi’s head, to hold him close and firm. And to caress his neck with small, stroking movements of his thumb. He shifts a little bit, pushes his head up until his lips meet Bodhi’s. They’re soft and warm against his chapped ones. And salty, from an errant tear.

As he drops back into the pillows he holds Bodhi’s gaze. He can’t promise him, but he’s going to give him the best thing he _can_ do.

“I’ll try.”

 

The End

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!  
> Hope you enjoyed it :)


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